


Late Night Advice

by GennaJoy



Category: Veep
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-18
Updated: 2016-07-18
Packaged: 2018-07-24 19:56:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7521046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GennaJoy/pseuds/GennaJoy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She shuffles a little where she’s standing in his doorway, its not a nervous shuffle, its more of a jittery, panic shuffle. “I can’t sleep,” she tells him, like its his problem.</p><p>He stares at her in disbelief for a moment, “Well I sure as fuck can when you're not blowing up my doorbell,” he exclaims.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Late Night Advice

**Author's Note:**

> So I wrote this post season 4, and then never finished it, and then season 5 started and I forgot about it and now that we are on the other side of the season, the lack of good Amy/Dan situations and storylines (or really just the lack of Amy) led me back to this, so here it is.

She pushes hid doorbell twice, and then knocks on his door. Three quick raps, followed by another five or six, followed by a few more goes at his door bell. 

When Dan appears at the threshold he is wide eyed, bleary-eyed and bug eyed all at once, “what the fuck is wrong with you?” he almost bellows when he sees who it is thats woken him up.

She shuffles a little where she’s standing, its not a nervous shuffle, its more of a jittery, panic shuffle. “I can’t sleep,” she tells him, like its his problem.

He stares at her in disbelief for a moment, “Well I sure as fuck can when you're not blowing up my doorbell,” he exclaims.

She fidgets, and steps towards the doorway, and whilst he could block her coming in, he is pretty sure she’d walk right into him before she stopped, so he moves aside for her. “I need to bounce some ideas off of you,” she tells him as she barrels into his living room, leaving him to close the door behind her and follow.

“Amy, its 3:27 in the morning,” he tells her, pointing at the clock above the little fire place he’s never once used “I was asleep,” he points to his flannelette pyjama pants and an old cotton t-shirt as proof. 

“I know, I’m sorry,” she says so quickly that he can tell she doesn’t mean it and couldn’t give a shit. “But the thing is, I think Selina is testing me,” Amy’s gotten a bit bug eyed herself, “she keeps smiling at me and agreeing with me and laughing at things I say that aren’t even funny.”

Dan rolls his eyes, “She missed you, you're in the make up sex phase of an argument,” he says and enjoys that she looks a bit disgusted by the analogy, “don’t worry, in a couple of days she’ll forget that you were ever fighting, she’ll notice something shit that you do, and she’ll go off about it,” he says and starts walking back towards his door to open it so that she can leave.

“No, see thats what I thought, but Ben is being really nice too,” she explains, “and I think there is some sort of practical joke brewing or, or, I dunno, maybe they did something really fucked up and they’re going to pin it on me as payback,” she’s gesticulating madly, like she does when she’s way too wired and she looks at him for confirmation on her theory, “I think they're setting me up to take the fall, just like they did with you,” she tells him.

Dan takes a deep breath, realising that this discussion is going no where (and neither is she, she’s too amped up to leave) “yeah look,” he starts in a soothing voice, “the difference there is that Ben loves you! Ben only tolerates me, Ben wouldn’t let you take a hit,” he reminds her. Amy nods, and her eyes have that absent look to them that tells him she’s pondering what he just said. 

She snaps out of it a minute later and he can see she’s about to start arguing again, “but what about….’

“AMY,” he yells pacing over to her and putting his hands on her shoulders for gravitas, “you’ve been back three days, nothings gone wrong yet,” he says, “don’t worry, shit WILL hit the fan, it always does, this is Selina we’re talking about.” Amy nods in agreement with that, trouble follows Selina like stink on a dog. “Things will go back to their normal shitty ways soon and you will feel like your normal miserable self, soon enough!” Dan delivers and then waits while it sinks in. When he can see her starting to deflate a bit he adds, “also, you look like crap, you're probably just overtired and overthinking.”

She glares at him, “well that was rude,” she dead pans.

He gives her his signature cocky grin, “but true” he chuckles and pokes her nose, which she seems to take great offence to, swatting at his hand. “When was the last time you slept more then an hour or so?” he asks, knowing exactly what stress does to her sleep levels.

“I dunno,” she pinches the bridge of her nose, “before I went back.”

Now that the panic and tension have left her body she just looks exhausted, standing in his living room in jeans and a t-shirt, hand bag hanging limply by her side, and her phone (quiet due to the hour) still clutched in her hand. Dan makes a quick decision, and pulls the handbag from her hand, dumping it on the closest chair, “hey,” she objects, but he’s already placed his hands on her shoulders, spun her and started directing her towards the bedroom. 

“Take your pants off,” he tells her, moving to pull back the quilt cover on the side of the bed he doesn’t sleep on.

“I’m not having sex with you Dan,” she deadpans.

He rolls his eyes, “well I wasn’t offering,” he tells her with an equally sardonic tone, gesturing to the bed that she should climb in, before walking around to his own side and laying back down.

“Good,” she replies, surveying him for a moment before unbuttoning and unzipping her jeans and wriggling free of them, “because i’m too tired to fake an orgasm,” she teases as she flops down onto his bed.

“You never faked an orgasm with me,” he proclaims, but she can sense just a waver of doubt in his expression. 

“You bet your ass I did,” she says, opening her emails one more time to check that there isn’t anything she needs to respond to before she goes to sleep.

He huffs and shuts his light off, but he can see the small smile of triumph on her face illuminated by her phone. “Will you please turn that the fuck off,” he requests, a little grumpy now that she’s wounded his sexual pride, “go to sleep Amy.” 

She turns the phone off, clicking them into darkness and placing it on the bedside table. As her eyes are still adjusting to the dark, she takes a moment to reflect on how strange this is. She has’t been in this bed in about seven years. Thats if its even the same bed. She doesn’t remember if this is what he had in the studio that he’d had in Georgetown. She had only been there a handful of times, and Dan had already moved in here by the time he started working for Selina. 

Amy could hear his breathing starting to even out as he began to fall asleep, it was a somewhat familiar sound. There had been plenty of nights on the campaign trail when they’d fallen asleep together while they were working. However, those nights usually resulted in sore necks from falling asleep on couches, or waking up freezing cold and covered in pizza crumbs because they’d passed out on top of the bed covers with a half eaten meal balanced on one of the pillows and papers and a laptop spread out between them. 

Amy hadn’t willingly gotten into a bed with Dan in a long time, so she was blaming the exhaustion for the fact that his bedding felt really soft and cozy and that the sound of his steady breathing was comforting enough that she could feel her eyelids drooping.

 

She didn’t wake when he hurriedly shut off his alarm in the morning, and she was still asleep when he came out of the shower a short time later. He dried himself, smirk firmly in place as he pulled on his underpants before throwing his wet towel at her. “Fuck off,” she groaned at him as she rolled over and threw it back. 

“How you feeling sleeping beauty?” he asked, which was a joke of course, because her hair was fucking everywhere and her eyeliner had smudged and was giving her that panda eyes look. 

She groaned as she sat up, “what time is it?” she asked, “and can you put some pants on for Christ's sake?” 

He chuckled as he finished buttoning his shirt, “Its a quarter past six,” he told her, “thought you might want to get up early enough to go home and change,” he grabbed his pants off a hanger.

She mumbled something that sounded like “too fucking right” into her hands, before leaning down and grabbing her jeans off the floor. She stood up, on the bed, walked across it and stepped down onto his side, walking into his ensuite and shutting the door behind herself.

He stared at her in bemusement as she vanished, “yeah thanks for that,” he called after her, “i’m sure thats good for the bed.” 

“If it can cope with the way you toss and turn, it can cope with me standing on it,” she yelled back, and then he heard the toilet flush before the sink began to run. “Are you sure you don’t have some form of sleep epilepsy?” she mocked from within, as he moved from pants to socks and shoes, choosing not to answer her.

By the time she’d come out, he was fully dressed and had picked up a pillow so that he could start making the bed. Amy had managed to put her pants back on, sort out her bed head, (he could bet there’d be blonde hairs all through his brush,) and clean her eyeliner up. 

“Wanna help me do this?” he asked, using a tone that implied it was the least she could do. 

She pretended to ponder it for a minute, “not particularly,” she smiled as she picked up her phone and shoes and wandered out of the room, “but i’ll make you a coffee,” she called over her shoulder.

“Machines on a timer,” he muttered as he went about pulling up the covers on his own. When he got out to the kitchen she was already sliding her feet back into her flats, hand bag on her shoulder with a mug in her hand that she was taking small sips from. There was a second cup on the counter, which she had already added creamer to, and when he picked it up to taste he could tell she knew the amount of sugar he usually added. “Thanks,” he indicated to the cup, and she nodded in response, “feel any better after your two and a half hours of sleep?” he asked. 

She shrugged, “sort of,” and she started moving for the door, “thanks for this,” she held up the mug as she turned his handle and made to walk out. 

“Uhh, thats not a to go cup,” he yelled after her, “thats one of my nice mugs.”

She stopped to roll her eyes, “I’ll give it back you baby,” she said before leaving. 

Amy’s cutting it fine to be in the office at 7:30 like she’d planned. She races home, has the worlds quickest shower, and does most of her make up in the car, but she makes it, sort of, still drinking the incredibly cold dregs of coffee out of Dan’s mug as she walks into the office. She rinses the cup and sets it down on her desk, opens her emails and sees one from Dan. “You owe me a favour now!” it says in the subject line, she rolls her eyes, “I totally calmed your crazy ass down last night,” begins the body of the email, “how about you convince Tom James to mention one of the Phamacorp products during his online Q and A today?” he finishes, and she can almost see the crass wink he would have given her if he’d asked in person. 

“How bout no,” is all she writes back not wanting him to think he did some miraculously kind thing by yelling at her in the middle of the night and being too lazy to kick her out of his place. Before she hits send though, her eye catches the coffee mug sitting on her desk and feels just a tiny bit of appreciation, “how bout I shout you a drink or something instead?” She hits send.

**Author's Note:**

> The second night to follow.


End file.
